


Let's Get Lost

by rxcrcfllptrs



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 12:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19273588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxcrcfllptrs/pseuds/rxcrcfllptrs
Summary: Harley realizes he misses Peter. This totally doesn't lead him to doing impulsive things out of the blue. Like following Peter to Tokyo because Peter has important SI business to attend to and Harley misses him. Nope. Not at all.





	Let's Get Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Title from and inspired by Shawn Mendes' "[Lost in Japan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycy30LIbq4w)".
> 
> This is set in a somewhat alternate universe where Tony lives, he and Pepper (ambiguous relationship, Morgan doesn't exist) are both retired. Harley and Peter take their places in the company, respectively. Our boys are around 25-26 in this fic.

Harley has an itch.

Not a physical sort of itch, but one that's growing in the back of his mind. Like a seedling of an idea, or a strain of mold. 

Peter left for Tokyo earlier this morning for Stark Industries-related business. Normally, this would not bother Harley. He'd be busy counting his lucky stars that no bigwig was looking for SI's reclusive CTO. But today doesn't seem very normal in the least.

He has his chair reclined all the way back, and he's tossing a [ball of interlinked aluminum rods](https://www.the-buckyballs.com/upload/201212/1354368255459353310.jpg) up in the air. Up and down, up and down. The repetitive action is usually enough as a catch-all stim: for coaxing out ideas, harebrained schemes, or just warding off oncoming anxiety.

Something is bothering him, and Harley doesn't know _what_.

"Hey Fri, where's Peter now?"

"StarkJet SA-5837 is currently flying over the Pacific Ocean. Estimated time of arrival to Narita International Airport is in 8 hours and 28 minutes."

Harley reclines in his seat and thinks for a few moments. "Call Peter."

"Initiating satellite call."

There's a few quiet seconds filled by the sound of Harley tossing his ball, the creak of his chair, and the fabricator whirring away in the background. He doesn't mind this kind of silence too much, but it's like something is tugging at him and he doesn't know _what it is_.

"Hello?" Peter's sleep-thick voice filters through the speakers.

"Hey, sweetheart," Harley calls, drawl light and easy. "How's Japan?"

There's a little moan on the other line, the sound of Peter stretching and rubbing his eyes. "Still crossing the Pacific Ocean," he huffs. "Can't FRIDAY tell you all this instead of calling me?"

"Well yeah, but I'd rather hear it from you, sweet thing," Harley smiles, imagines the little fluster growing on his boyfriend's face. Imagines sitting next to him on the flight, rubbing comforting circles into the back of his hand, catching up on their day-to-days, Peter sleeping on his shoulder—

Harley forgets to catch the ball that time, and it lands squarely on his face. "Ow, _fuck_."

"Smooth, Keener," Peter says dryly. "Did you hit your face with your stim again?"

"No," Harley grumbles. "Yes."

He hears Peter stifle a laugh. "What are you gonna do without me, honey?"

"Uh, supervillain backstory, clearly."

"Wow. Am I the significant other that gets killed for protagonist character development?" mouth a little away from the phone, Peter requests for a water. "What a downgrade, Harls."

"Did you just insinuate that I'd be the wife from [Genghis Khan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_SlAzsXa7E), then?" Harley shoots back, resting the ball on his stomach now. The fabricator pings in the background. "Fri, queue up Prototype 84-Zeta-Gamma-361, please," a few beeping sounds, and the whirring starts up again.

"At least you'd be hot?" Peter says, grin clear in his voice.

"I'd be hot and spiteful and, uh, hello? Sexy threesome," Harley smirks when he hears Peter choke on his water. "I'm not hearing any no's..."

"I was trying not to choke to death, you ass."

"You love my ass."

"That I do," Harley stands and stretches a bit before placing his ball on a desk with a 'clink'. "So was this call just for waking me up in the middle of my flight and making me choke on my water?" Harley can hear the tail end of something expectant, but he can't place it yet.

He puts both palms on a desk, pitching forward as he breathes out a steady stream of air. "Do you have plans tonight?"

"To _night_? Babe, I'm not flying halfway across the world for vacation," Harley taps out a rhythm on the metal surface, thinking about the mold growing in the back of his mind like an errant pest. "That's another thing you could've asked FRIDAY, you know."

"I know," Harley waves a dismissive hand that Peter can't see. "But do I look like I listen when MJ's giving you your to-do list for the month? Do I look like I listen to _my own_?" he mock-scoffs. "It's like you don't even know me."

Peter hums, acquiescing. "I have a stockholder meeting in the afternoon, that's a few hours after I land. I'll be touring some facilities tomorrow morning then attending a conference in the afternoon," Harley follows along with a projection FRIDAY supplies. "Fun stuff, I know."

Now it's Harley's turn to hum, cogs turning in his brain. _If I can get packed and the jet prepped by the next hour..._ "I miss you," is what comes out of his mouth, then he clears his throat. "That's why I called. We haven't really been spending that much time together, is all."

There's a quiet 'oh' on the other side of the call. "Well, I'll be back in a few days. I could... I could get a few days blocked off, when I get back," Peter starts, voice getting far away as he runs his own calculations. "I've been missing you too," he admits. Harley half-smiles, now texting people who are in the need-to-know of his sudden plans.

"You know, some of these people do want to meet SI's ever-reclusive CTO," Peter clears his throat. "It might do some good to company relations if they showed up to some of these," _and accompany me to them so we can spend more time together_ , is what Harley thinks Peter doesn't say.

"We'll see," Harley says, closing off most of the workshop holoscreens and wiping his hands of grease on his shirt. "I need to get going, the fabricator's done with a schematic I've been working on..." the excuse falls a bit short to his own ears, he notes with a frown.

"Mhmm," Peter replies, a touch sad. "I heard earlier. I'll catch you in a few days, okay?"

"Okay," Harley queues up a few more schematics to run in his absence. "Love you."

"I love you too. Bye," the line is silent for a few seconds before the call actually ends.

"Call ended." 

Harley stands there for a few minutes, surveying the room to see if he forgot anything. He doesn't think he does, not really. And, like he was expecting it, FRIDAY pipes up with a suggestion.

"May I suggest leaving by 2:30PM to arrive promptly at your intended destination?"

Harley smirks, walking over to dust off his jacket from one of the swivel chairs. _Smart girl_. "Thanks, Fri. I'll get my shit packed. Tell Lawrence to bring the car around in about 30 minutes. And, get the other jet prepped for Tokyo."

"Request for StarkJet SA-6124 was sent three minutes ago," if he didn't know any better, he might've detected a hint of smugness from the AI.

"Yeah, yeah, we can't all be omnipresent AIs with a penchant for snark," Harley says as he slings the jacket over his shoulder. He turns on his heel as the lights shut off, then he's heading up to his floor. 

"I do believe you do just fine without integration to a digital interface, Harley," FRIDAY says as the elevator doors close.

"And that's why Tony never liked it when we colluded."

 

* * *

 

Peter is... bored.

Granted, these meetings weren't exactly a trip to Disneyland or anything (though _that_ was an idea...), but he'd much rather be elsewhere. He's thankful for all those times Pepper taught him to have an ironclad poker face, perfect for situations where he'd rather wander than stay put.

Okay, so maybe she taught it so he didn't falter in the face of head honchos trying to pull the intimidation card but hey — it works for this situation too! He has Karen keeping track of the room, and he's even luckier that this particular meeting doesn't need much input from him.

Instead, he's focusing most of his brainpower on the phone call from earlier. Actually, he never stopped. Not really.

Peter trains his eyes on the current speaker, sometimes flicking to Karen's transcription. None of the words are actually sticking, but he hopes he's giving the impression that he's paying attention. He'll go over Karen's notes later.

When _did_ he and Harley last spend time together? He blinks and tilts his head a fraction. The last few months were a flurry of setting up a division in EnviTech for maricultural biodiversity preservation, establishing several sites for future solar-arc reactor power plants in coal-dependent regions, and keeping tabs on Miles' Spider-man training. Good for the future of the rest of the world, not so much for his own relationship.

Peter resists the urge to frown at that revelation. He definitely needs to make some time this month ( _this_ month, he asserts to his internal equivalent of MJ) to fix that. A trip to Disneyland might not be too far off in his future, after all.

The meeting ebbs away to light chatter as the clock nears 5:30PM. And sue him, but that's definitely what Peter likes most about meetings here, they start and end like clockwork. Jet lag isn't a pretty look on him, and he's so ready to pass out on his hotel bed.

"Will you be joining us for dinner, Mr. Parker?" A man Peter remembers as Matsukata-san offers as they exit the board room. "We understand if you would rather retire early, this meeting was of utmost importance and we appreciate your presence despite the short notice."

"Ah, thank you for your consideration," Peter finds himself saying. "I'll be fine, I can join for dinner," Sure, he says that externally, but internally, he's freaking out. _Why the hell did I say yes? Don't I have a facility tour tomorrow morning?_

The poker face comes back in full force, the panic evident for a fraction of a moment before it melts into neutrality. Matsukata-san nods with a small smile, pleased. He reminds Peter that the location and time are on the meeting invitation, should he choose to take his own transport there. 

Peter supposes it'll be fine, might even make it easier to fall asleep later on a full stomach.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was, against all odds, fine. 

Okay, Peter is overreacting and playing up his anxiety. He wasn't expecting anything world-ending happening that would require him to suit up, but maybe like... The _teppanyaki_ would explode, or they'd run out of marinade in the middle of the meal, or something small but ridiculous and trivial in the grand scheme of things.

It's just that things were going _far_ too well. He finds himself rolling his [infinity ring](https://static1.squarespace.com/static/542c1cb5e4b0a8c50e8d3374/542c2f85e4b0192a619b1700/59e8e265b078692122d6b08c/1560859578766/fidgetrings2e.png?format=1500w) over his palms, trying to find calm in the constant movement against his skin. _Things are fine, right? Things are fine._

He calls MJ.

"It's like 6AM, did a kaiju attack during your meeting?" are her first words to him, and Peter rolls his eyes as he brings his ring up to his teeth.

"As if the Avengers wouldn't have assembled at 5 if that actually happened," he replies. "Is there any chance I can get a week blocked this month?"

" _This_ month?"

" _This_ month, yeah," he's biting his ring now, reminding himself to control his strength before he bites clean through it.

"Wow, Parker. Couldn't you have told me this _last_ month?" There's the sound of papers rustling and footsteps on carpeted floor.

"Gee, Jones, let me just hop in my TARDIS and get that straightened out for you," he leans his elbow on the armrest, leaning his forehead on a knuckle. City lights flicker through the darkened windows, he sighs. "I've been good for the past few months, but I think the non-stop jet-setting is getting to me."

MJ hums, there's the sound of a coffee maker flicked on. "I'll see what I can do. No promises, some of these guys have been on waitlist."

"Cool," he nods, before tacking on. "Sorry for waking you. If a kaiju does attack, you'll be the first to know."

"I better be," and the call ends.

He rolls his shoulders to rid of tension bunching up there, closing his eyes and leaning back. Maybe he can get a tiny bit of shuteye until he gets to the hotel.

 

* * *

 

Harley whistles when he gets to his hotel room. Or, more accurately, when he gets to Peter's hotel room.

It's the executive suite, of course, only the best for Stark Industries' finest. It's a far cry from their college days, of airbnbs and lodging houses. It's even further still from his teen years, bunking in ratty couches and seedy motels. Not that he's complaining, but even now, it doesn't feel quite real yet.

The flight over went without a hitch. The staff were a bit frazzled at the sudden second flight, but that's why they're paid that much. He managed to get some sleep in and checked on the fabricator in the times when he couldn't. _Shame we don't have more machines to automate things like that_ , he thinks at some point, noting the idea down.

Harley was _sorely_ tempted to call Peter up. He snorts at the idea of  calling a person on a plane headed the same direction as him, _but that would ruin the surprise_.

Wow, the day Harley Keener has the ability to have some subtlety in him. _Only because you have no time to stew in the secret and then explode because you remember that you can't keep one,_ the internal voice that suspiciously sounds like Tony reminds him.

_Shut up, Tony. This is a_ good _thing, isn't it?_  

He stows his carry-on and shoulder bag in the walk-in (how long was Peter supposed to be here for? A _month_?) and flops unceremoniously onto the king-sized bed. He breathes in the scent of freshly-made sheets before lying on his back and checking his phone.

Thus far there were no major alerts that needed his immediate attention, no texts or calls from people that would talk his ear off (other than the requisite "Don't do anything stupid" from Pepper and a "and that's gay" from Abbie). He was also tempted to post a photo of his touchdown in Tokyo, but he'll just have to save that for later.

_Later._ Oh god. He stands up and paces to the middle of the room.

Harley didn't think this through. ( _No surprise there_ , internal Tony says.) How is he gonna surprise Peter? Should he have ordered one of those gigantic cakes for strippers to pop out of? Gotten a powerpoint for 'The Best Boyfriend Ever'? Hell, he should've at least bought flowers.

Did the airport have flowers? Are flower shops still open at — he takes a moment to check his watch — 8PM? Hospitals! Hospitals always have flowers. He makes a face at the thought. _Hospitals, really?_

He would've thought himself deeper into this rabbit hole, had he not hear the door lock click. _Oh fuck!_  

Reacting based on pure reflex, Harley dives back onto the bed, sitting as though he's been there the entire time. He forces himself to relax every tense muscle in his body, _or at least look it_ , even with his heart hammering in his chest.

If this were a scene in a movie, he imagines the violins playing the same note up to a crescendo, mounting suspense as the camera pans into the room. _Or there would be soft piano music and warm lighting because this is just about the most romantic you've done lately, Keener._

_My life is not a romance movie._ He huffs quietly against his internal monologue. _Okay, maybe an action rom-com. Mr. & Mrs. Smith or something._

So far, there's no movement in any far corners of his eye, but there's a queasy feeling in his stomach that kind of feels like something sour threatening to climb up and out through his esophagus. _Am I dying? Is this what dying feels like?_ he thinks as he pretends to scroll through his social media feed. _No, dumbass. That's the proverbial 'butterflies in your stomach'._

_Sounds unhealthy._

"So," Harley just about jumps a foot in the air at the sound, too wound up in his thoughts. "I thought we said 'in a few days'?"

_Peter._

For a second, Harley struggles to find the words. "Correction," he licks his drying lips. " _You_ said in a few days, sugar. Good thing SI has more than one private jet, huh?"

Peter snorts, loosening his tie as he walks towards the bed. "You and your technicalities," he mutters, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his jacket before sidling up next to Harley. "Did you plan this ahead of time or did you give the poor charter staff a heart attack?"

Peter asks this as he curls up next to Harley, resting his head on his chest. Harley wraps an arm around Peter's shoulders, and twines his right leg over Peter's left. "They get paid enough to get heart attacks once in a while," Harley replies, smiling before kissing Peter's hair.

They sit there, watching Harley's phone scroll through the feed of social updates and memes and bite-sized videos. 

Sometimes Harley pauses his scrolling to watch a recipe he might try out, or Peter asks him to stop so they can coo over a cute dog. All the while talking about everything and nothing, catching up on the little things that they missed while their lives happened all around them.

It's nice, it's simple, and a much-needed break from everything going on right now.

"So, this is the schematic you were working on, huh?" Peter asks, referring to Harley's sudden trip to Japan. Peter sighs as Harley runs his hand through and loosens his gelled curls.

"I do actual work," Harley says casually, "I had FRIDAY queue up a couple more prototypes to print so I can get to them when we get back. I also had Holt and Quintana take over R&D for a few days in case anything gets set on fire or something."

Peter hums. "I do love me an organized man," he says before sitting up and shrugging his jacket off. He hangs it on the post of the headrest before settling back on Harley.

"I'm all yours, sweetpea," Harley lifts Peter's chin up with a finger to kiss him on the lips. "All yours," he says a touch huskily. Now it's Peter's turn to lick his lips, but first...

"Does this mean you'll be at the meetings I'm going to now?"

Harley side-eyes him. "I didn't bring a suit specifically so I could get out of doing that. Can't I be a trophy boyfriend for once?"

Peter twines their free hands. "A trophy boyfriend who is the head of R&D of the leading name in clean energy, environmental technology, and prosthetics," he lists off, to Harley's scrunched face. He wants to kiss the dumb look off his face, so Peter does. "No, definitely not trophy boyfriend material. And, you know I make the cleaning ladies pack a spare suit in all your go-bags."

Harley rolls his eyes. "No you don't," he mutters, knowing it was definitely true. "I hate you."

"No you don't," Peter echoes the earlier statement with a smug smile. He nestles his face in the crook of Harley's neck, breathes in the scent embedded from Harley and the fresh button-down.

"No, I don't," Harley says. Then, a switch is flicked —  _dear god, I've been waiting for you forever —_ and he sets his phone aside. Damn well near throws it away, if he could.

His hands find either side of Peter's waist, then he moves Peter so he's straddling his lap. A look into Peter's normally hazel eyes show them blown wide and deepened to a dark caramel. Peter groans as Harley puts his lips on his neck, reacts by bunching up the material in his fists. "Oh, Harls—" Peter's breath hitches, and Harley's hands — _huge, warm hands_ — start to peel back the layers on him.

It's the practiced image of Peter Parker falling apart to those same hands that took him apart when they were 16, were 20, and now 26 and at the top of the world. He  _mewls_ when Harley kisses a trail up the column of his neck up to nibble at his ear, eyes fluttering shut.

"Now let's find out how much I love you, shall we?" Harley murmurs into his skin, the sound sending tingles riding up and down his spine, and Peter rises to the occasion.

 

* * *

 

He still takes the extra week off to take Harley to DisneySea and doesn't regret a damn thing.


End file.
